


The Green Eyed Monster

by akane171



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, Season 2, Some mature content, but nothing graphic, humor angst and fluff, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25691884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akane171/pseuds/akane171
Summary: In which Superfriends and DEO seized alien wildlife smugglers and rescued a bunch of creatures from all over the universe. Which in the end didn’t make Kara very happy. Not. At. All.And it was all her dumb Daxamite boyfriend’s fault.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Mon-El
Comments: 22
Kudos: 41





	The Green Eyed Monster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LoneWulffe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoneWulffe/gifts).



> Big thanks for my amazing beta reader karxmels <3  
> Once upon a time, my dear LoneWulffe sent me a prompt:  
> "I want you to write a fic where Kara and Mon-El have to take care of an alien creature that looks kind of weird by Earth standards but behaves like a hyperactive puppy! =D"  
> First of all, sorry it took me soooooooo freakingly long to write it.  
> Secondly, I was thinking a little too much about your stories while writing, and it got insipired a lot by your fics. Don't sue me!  
> Thirdly... it didn't turn... they way... I planned it... *sweats*
> 
> Anyway, hope you will all enjoy it!

“Ok, five flying monkeys from Pawian, one kind of elephant with two trunks from God knows which planet, ten smelly sluggish balls made... of jelly with tentacles… uhm-” Alex scratched her head with a pen and stared at her notes.

“Mon-El said they are called smarks,” Winn said happily, while holding and petting ananas - a small animal that looked like a furry pineapple with eyes.

“Smarks.” Alex wrote it down and made a disgusted face when two DEO agents holding a big aquarium with the alien animals passed them.

“Who the hell would want to buy something like _that_.” She coughed when a wave of something that smelled like a combination of mud, rotting fish and piss reached her nose.

“They made some super expensive anti-wrinkle cream from them.” Winn coughed and wiped the tears from his eyes, trying to catch a breath. The pineapple in his arms looked like it was ready to faint.

“Eww, another reason to put these assholes into cells,” Alex murmured watching how two Kirries smugglers were screaming at a not really amused J’onn, who was dragging them out with a not really amused face.

“Have Kara and Mon-El caught all the superpowered talking rats?” she asked, trying to get rid of the very embarrassing image of agent Valdes gripping the tail of one of the alien rats… and being dragged by it on his stomach, screaming and tossing all over the abandoned production hall until Kara caught them.

The rats came from a planet with a red sun. In Alex’s humble opinion, there were way too many fucking red suns in the universe.

“Almost, Supergirl is chasing the last one.” Mon-El stopped near them and threw a bunch of protesting rats into a cage made from NTH mental.

“How many?” Alex sighed, massaging her temples, because all the rats were screeching in their weird annoying language, sounding like a group of pissed off communists on a rally.

“Uhm-“ Mon-El glimpsed at the cage. “A legion? More or less.”

“The legion of superpowered rats, sweet.” Alex wrote down in the protocol, a massive headache striking her.

“That’s the last one." Suddenly, Kara landed beside the group and put the screaming rat into the cage.

“Great, let’s hope-”

Alex was interrupted by a loud scream and agent Hartmann ran to them. His hair was wild, eyes big, uniform torn and there were bloody scratches all over his ash pale face.

Yep, there came her headache.

“A-! A-! A-!” he stammered out, hastily waving his hands.

“What’s A- A- A-?” Mon-El asked, confused.

The oldest Davers sister pinched the bridge of her nose and took a calming breath.

“A monster!” Hartmann screamed.

*

“It’s not a monster, what the fuck, Hartmann?”

Alex, Winn (still with his pineapple in his arms), Mon-El, Kara and Hartmann (who was hiding behind Alex’s back) were staring at a feline animal that looked like an Earth cat.

But it was bigger, around 60 centimeters long (with three tails about the same length), covered with long, dirty fur that was colored in a mix of browns and greens. It had whiskers not only on the side of its face but also on its head. The animal kept staring at them with big, round green eyes.

It was tied to a wall with a wire wrapped around its neck, cutting the skin and making it bleed.

“Poor thing,” Kara said and, without thinking, reached to free the animal.

“Uhm, Kara, wait, it’s-!”

The pupils in the animal’s eyes suddenly turned from round circles into thin lines. The hackle on its back rose. It made a high pitched hiss, leaped forward and attacked Kara’s hand with its paws armed with extended long claws.

“Wow!” Kara jumped back, not due to fear, because surely it could not have harmed her, but surprised by the animal’s hostility.

The wire around the neck cut into the skin deeper.

“Hey, it’s ok.” She extended her hand again, and this time the animal managed to scratch her hand.

“Ow!” She withdrew her hand, watching how a thin red line appeared on her skin with disbelief.

“How?”

“It’s a tree shen’ghar.” Mon-El took her hand and examined the slash. “You've surely heard about them.”

Kara furrowed her brows. Tree shen’ghar? That sounded familiar…

Her eyes widened upon the realization.

Shen’ghars were the native sentient species of the forestry planet Dol Blathanna. They have been living in the tree crowns, high above the ground. The giant trees were known for their incredibly smooth and hard bark, and only animals with super hard and sharp claws could climb and live on them. Shen’ghars were also-

“Telepaths that can sense the emotions of other creatures,” she said, staring at the animal that kept hissing and jerking the wire.

“It probably couldn’t read your Kryptonian mind and got scared,” Alex said.

“What are we going to do? No regular human can survive an encounter with it,” Winn said, and Hartmann made a weak noise, still hidden behind Alex.

“Uhm, maybe just shoot it with anesthetic-” Alex started, but the animal hissed and tried to attack them again.

“Alex! It can read your mind!”

“Since when do alien cats know English?!”

“You must have thought about a gun!”

“I- shit!”

“Okay, go away, shoo, now.” Kara took their arms and dragged them out (except for Hartmann, who had evacuated his ass a few seconds earlier).

“We need to call J’onn-” she turned to Mon-El, who was already crouching in front of the hissing shen’ghar.

“Mon-El! What the hell are you doing?!” she yelled in a hushed voice.

“Shh, don’t scare it more,” he hummed back, happily, staring calmly at the animal that had squatted to the ground and tensed its muscles, like it was ready to attack.

“We can’t wait for J’onn, it is already bleeding, one more leap and it can get harmed more,” he said calmly. “And don’t yell at me again,” he teased, with a smile in his voice, trying to ease the mood.

“I’m not going to yell at you again,” she yelled at him, again, in a hushed voice, pissed off that he was joking in a situation like that.

Mon-El chuckled, and started humming something in Daxamite. The shen’ghar focused its eyes on him, all three tails cutting the air angrily.

Kara gulped and tensed her muscles, ready to use her superspeed to yank her dumb boyfriend away and save him from the super sharp claws that were ready to tear his arteries to shreds.

And then somehow save the alien animal as well.

Mon-El kept humming, drawing his open palm, and slowly bringing it closer to the alien feline.

The shen’ghar hissed, its ears plastered to its head, and hit his hand with a paw. Kara bit the insides of her cheeks to prevent herself from making a protesting sound, when a bloody gush appeared on Mon-Els hand.

But he didn’t wince, and his voice didn’t tremble. He kept humming, and drew his hand nearer.

Kara held her breath when the shen’ghar growled.

The animal hit his hand again and again, leaving scratches and traces of blood.

Mon-El stopped his hand inches from the animal. The shen’ghar hissed for the last time, and hit his hand again, but this time, with its claws hidden. Hesitantly, it sniffed Mon-El’s hand, and finally licked his fingers.

Still talking quietly in Daxamite, Mon-El scratched the animal behind an ear, and reached to the wire, slowly unwrapping it from the shen’ghar’s neck.

Kara started breathing again, when he freed the animal and took it gently into his arms.

The alien cat’s eyes became round again, while it was watching Mon-El’s face.

“Well, it was not that bad, huh?” he said with a smile, while stroking the shen’ghar’s back.

Kara wanted to murder the Daxamite with cold Kryptonian blood.

*

She was standing in the DEO’s infirmary, with her arms folded on her chest and scowling.

Mon-El was sitting on one of the beds with the shen’ghar on his lap, while Alex was finishing tending its neck.

He was stroking the animal’s back with his injured hand. The gushes were healing, but he still needed dressings.

Kara furrowed her brows.

“I informed the Intergalactic Commission of Illegal Animal Trafficking that we rescued a shen’ghar,” Winn said, while doing something on his data pad. “This one had a microchip that was removed, but hopefully we are going to find the owners soon. Shen’ghars are rarely kept as pets, and-” he finally looked at Kara and blinked. “Uhm, are you ok?”

“Of course I am,” she snapped, staring at Mon-El and the animal.

Winn glimpsed at the place between her brows, but said nothing.

“It needed stitches, but it’s in good physical condition.” Alex took off the disposable gloves, and scratched the shen’ghar’s head. “But the brain scans showed some concerning results.”

“She suffers from the lack of physical contact,” Mon-El said, looking lovingly at the animal and stroking its back. “Shen’ghars create strong emotional bonds with their kin and owners. They need physical contact to stay mentally healthy.”

“That explains why her brain glowed in blue at the scan,” Alex said. “But now she seems happier.”

Kara bit the insides of her cheek.

“Oh, she is. But Shirll misses her owner.” Mon-El caressed the shen’ghar’s head with his knuckles, and the animal made an intense purring sound.

“Shirll?” Kara blinked.

“It’s her name, she showed me a mental image of her old collar with her name on it,” Mon-El smiled. “I think her owner is some Tangarian girl, but I can’t tell if she’s on Earth or on Tangar. The images Shirll showed me are blurred and scattered. We don’t share a bond after all, sorry girl,” he said to the alien cat, who poked his chin with her head, trying to communicate it was not his fault.

Winn awed, while Kara furrowed her brows harder.

She was… a little irritated, maybe even angry, and she didn’t know why. 

“I think I can contact Tangar but it may take days to get something back,” Winn said, and scratched his head. “So, meanwhile-” he stopped, and they all stared at the creature in Mon-El’s arms.

Kara knew what he was going to say before he opened his mouth-

“She’s going to stay with me, of course,” he said hugging the animal to his chest. “Shirll likes me, we’re pals already.”

-and she was still surprised.

And not exactly… thrilled.

Mon-El looked at her, and his easy smile wavered a little.

The shen’ghar stared at her too. Her big, round pupils turned into thin lines as she hissed lowly.

Kara bit the insides of her cheeks and then took a deep, calming breath.

It was going to be ok. Somehow.

*

It was not ok.

When they left DEO, instead of holding his hand and laughing at his comments about things they’d passed that surprised him, she sulkily walked two meters behind her so called boyfriend, who was happily holding Shirll wrapped in his jacket, and kept describing all the surroundings, even if the shen’ghar couldn't possibly understand.

But the alien pet didn’t mind, because she watched everything with big green eyes, her head moving from one thing to another, shooting Kara nasty looks over Mon-El’s shoulder every time she spotted the Kryptonian.

In Kara’s loft, things didn’t improve.

They planned to cook lasagna together for dinner. And cooking it they did, just not exactly _together_.

She was chopping the onions on the one end of the kitchen table, while Mon-El stood on the other end, peeling the carrots.

He was supposed to teach her and show her all of the steps, teach her how to chop and stir the meat in a pot, instruct when to add ingredients, and how to make a perfect béchamel sauce. They were supposed to tease each other, poke themselves with elbows and utensils, throw things, laugh, and even steal kisses.

However, nothing of that nature had happened, because the freaking shen’ghar climbed Kara’s man like a tree, sat on his shoulder, wrapped its three tails around his neck and hissed dangerously every time the Kryptonian stood too close.

Kara felt like the animal treated Mon-El as… as… her possession, and the blonde was not worthy enough to even look at the Daxamite.

So, she sulkily massacred the onions on her side of the table, responded with mhms and uhms when he instructed her what to do next and sighed every time he talked to the furry intruder.

And then, suddenly, he threw a slice of tomato at her head.

She slowly took it off her hair and looked at him through squeezed eyes.

“What was that.”

“A tomato,” he said, innocently.

“And how did it end up on my hair?”

“Accidents happen,” he smiled cheekily, with boyish dimples on his cheeks and sparks dancing in his eyes. She slowly smiled back.

“Accident, huh,” she said, sweetly. “What if a jar of sugar accidentally ended up on your face?”

“Hey.” He raised his hands. “You don’t want to scare our guest, hmm?”

The smile that was forming on her lips froze when she looked at the shen’ghar, who was daggering her again with her green, glowing eyes.

“Babe,” Mon-El said softly. “She can’t read your emotions, it scares her. Give her time, when she gets to know you better, she’ll like you. For now, she’s just confused.”

Kara sighed and nodded.

And then threw the tomato back at him, but, of course, it landed on Shirll’s head and for the next thirty minutes Mon-El had to sit with her on the couch and calm her down, because the shen’ghar looked like she wanted to carve Kara’s eyes out. 

The Kryptonian felt slightly guilty.

Later, at night, when she was lying in her bed, his side empty and cold, because he was sleeping with the shen’ghar on the couch, and listening to his heartbeat, the guilt hit her once more.

Kara was perfectly aware that Shirll was scared, confused and upset. She knew the shen’ghar was torn from her owner, treated horribly and Mon-El was probably the first good thing that had happened to her in weeks.

She knew all of it, and yet, she still felt a mix of confused emotions she didn’t really like or understand.

*

Things did not get better in the morning.

She woke up to the sound of the door shutting, and the sight of an empty loft.

Kara sighed and got up, trying not to feel disappointed that she was going to eat goddamned porridge on her breakfast. Alone.

Nevertheless, her mood improved a little, when, on the table, a few tasty sandwiches were waiting for her, with a note reading: _Bon appetit 8)_ under the plate.

Munching the masterpieces made of fresh multigrain bread, two kinds of cheese, ham, tomatoes, boiled eggs, chives and drops of mayonnaise, she looked around her loft, realizing that the food didn’t taste as good as it should have.

It tasted like it lacked the most important ingredient.

*

Five days later, things still didn’t improve. They had gotten worse.

Primo, Shirll still didn't like her and clung to Mon-El all the time, successively protecting him from Kara’s touches, presence and lust. She was better than Rhea at that.

Being brutally honest, Kara almost missed Mon-El’s mother. She could have simply kicked her ass and yeeted her into the sun.

She could not do that to the alien pet. Even if she almost wanted to and, surprisingly, it didn’t make her feel guilty anymore.

Secundo, because the freaking excuse of a cat kept hissing and daggering her with glowing eyes, Mon-El stopped sleeping in Kara’s loft. Hell, he started avoiding her. He visited the loft only when she was at work, preparing dinners and leaving them with funny notes that didn’t make her happy anymore.

The food still didn’t taste like it should have. Eating it alone, without him, felt wrong. And it was ridiculous.

Tertio, the attention he was receiving at his work was pissing her off. Yes, he was always popular and the customers loved him. Yes, the girls and some guys, humans and aliens, liked to flirt with him and she didn’t mind. 

Somehow, she knew the ex frat boy of the universe only had eyes for her, and it stroked her Kryptonian ego a little.

But now…

She sipped her beer, watching him from afar.

He was preparing the drinks, smiling and joking like always, with the crowd around him a little bigger than usual.

The shen’ghar was sitting on his shoulder, purring, allowing some strangers to pat her head (Kara grimaced every time she saw it) and stroke her back, watching them with big, round, green eyes, making people swoon, awe and give Mon-El bigger tips.

She should have been happy for him, right? But she was sitting in the dark corner, sulking and trying to ignore the winks and smiles he was sending her. 

Soon, they turned into worried glances.

Kara knew she was making him anxious, and should have simply smiled back. But she couldn’t.

So, she’d ignored yet another worried glance, and grimaced right after, when Shirll sent her a death glare. And then the alien boyfriend stealer turned her head and accepted a pat from a customer.

Kara’s stomach clenched painfully at the sight. She growled and banged her head against the table. Again. And again.

Not so long before, though it certainly felt like a lifetime, Mon had told her that he didn’t know there were so many emotions to be had.

Now she really could relate.

“Not the best moment, I guess?”

Kara raised her head and looked grimly at Winn, who sat opposite to her.

“Don’t even start,” she groaned and took a sip of her beer.

“Ok, so shortly: I have good and bad news. I will start with the good one. We found Shirll’s owner, Mon-El was right, she’s a girl from Tangar.” He grabbed her bottle and took a sip. “Ugh, how can you drink this, it’s alcohol-free. Geez-”

Kara didn’t listen to his ramblings, enjoying the shower of endorphins that were flooding her brain.

Did it - did it mean that the mop-head was going away? Shortly?! Then-

She blinked, and looked at Winn, who was sipping her beer but not meeting her eyes.

The endorphins evaporated from her brain in a second.

“And the bad news?” her voice snapped like a mousetrap.

He gulped. “Remember I’m just a messenger, ok? I lost in the rock, paper, scissors game, but J’onn for sure was cheating and Alex-”

“Winn,” freezing breath escaped her mouth.

“Uhm, the owner can come but… if you think about it, it’s not that long-”

“WINN.”

“Two weeks?”

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

*

She was not jealous.

Absolutely. Not even slightly. She was not jealous of the freaking, annoying, stinky alien mouse eater, who had decided to make Kara’s boyfriend her personal tree, servant and petting provider, while Kara needed to live on cold food, in the cold bed with growing sexual frustration that couldn’t be released by her fingers, no matter how hard she tried. And believe her, she tried.

But no, no, no, no, she was not jealous.

She was PISSED OFF and it was Mon-El’s fault.

Yes, his fault. 

That she’d become attached. That she’d become vulnerable. That she was starving for his touch.

She had been perfectly fine for years. She had given herself in to the sad fact that, after a few male broken noses, intimacy was not for her. She had sucked it up.

But then, he fell from the sky, her own personal version of Sleeping Handsome. And she was screwed, even if she hadn't realized it at the first moment. He provided her a roller coaster of feelings, from being excited to find another Kryptonian survivor, to being pissed off he was a freaking Daxamite, to being the happiest female alien alive, to ending up absolutely furious and devastated after realizing he was the raodamned prince.

When the hell had it happened?

When they shook hands for the first time, and she truly felt his grip? When she tossed him around the training room, being equally amused and annoyed while listening to his ridiculous rambles? When they’d danced, and she realized later that not once did she have to fear about crushing his feet? When she held his hand while Jeremiah removed a bullet from his leg?

Because, being perfectly honest to herself and to Rao, when he kissed her for the first time, she was already longing for his touch. She just didn’t really want to admit it, and buried it deep in the back of her mind.

And well, afterward, sex happened and… boy, oh _boy_ , now she really understood what her female colleagues meant when they giggled and acted like hormonal teens in CatCo’s cafeteria while talking about sex (she was not eavesdropping, she was not! It was absolutely not her fault she had super hearing and they were loud!). Now she fully understood. And she wanted to giggle, laugh and act like a teen too.

And. It. Was. His. Fault.

That the longing for his touch turned into a painful starving.

Starving to hold his hand when they walked, feeling his thumb drawing small circles on her palm.

To rest her head on his shoulder and have her arms wrapped around his waist, while he was cooking and humming Daxamite songs.

To brush hair from his forehead when he was falling asleep with his head on her lap.

To feel their limbs tangled under their blanket in the mornings, while making ridiculous excuses, so that they could stay in bed a little longer.

To lose her mind as his fingers buttoned up her dress agonizingly slowly.

She missed her hand inside his jean’s pocket, on his ass.

His kisses every time he brought her food at work.

The scent of his skin on the crook of his neck, where she loved hiding her face.

His fingers, sneaking under her shirts, in the most unexpected, but welcomed moments.

Her hand in his pants, this time, on the front.

All the touches, brushings, accidental and intentional. It felt natural, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, just for _them,_ in their little world, only for two.

Such small, unimportant things. And yet, she’d become addicted to them. To him. More and more every day. Had it really been only a few months since he’d appeared in her life? How much stronger was her addiction to him going to grow after years? Decades?

Sometimes she wondered, if perhaps she had fallen for him only because she felt his touches, and was not afraid to lose control with him, not afraid to break him. Wasn’t Mon-El her only option after all?

But all he needed to do was make one alien reference that only she could understand. Bring up one memory about a planet they’d both visited as children. Joke about one boring Kryptonian and Daxamite history event. 

Their talks about things that still confused them about Earth customs. How the dragons in the Game of Thrones didn’t remind them of the dragons used in garata. How pizza with pineapples tasted like ciasto (and how he loved and she hated it). One last happy memory of the people they loved and lost.

Things that she could only share with him. Things that only he - the alien immigrant from her solar system, who had lost everything just like her, from a planet that was destroyed in front of his eyes - could understand.

But not just that.

It took him one smile, aimed just for her, with the dimples in his cheeks and sparks in his grey eyes to make her swoon. One look, and she felt things she had never imagined she was able to. Simple, dumb words that made her body and soul warm and heart light. Doing things that any partner, human or alien, could do, and still, she knew it could have been him and only him.

Because it felt like the gods had intervened and sent him to her.

A man that was much older than her, kept in the Well of Stars long enough to make them age-mate. Someone with whom she would have never met and fallen in love under different circumstances. Someone physically compatible. Who kept her on her toes, annoyed her, made her laugh and aroused, forced her to question her choices, helped her see things from the other side, supported her and stood firmly by her side, made her cry, hurt her, and was hurt by her.

There were better men than him. He was _oh-_ so imperfect but she had learned to accept it. She had learned to love him as he was, with his struggling to become someone he deserved to be, away from his planet, parents and culture.

Just as she had accepted that she was not perfect either. And he loved her, and accepted all of her. From A to Z. With her every character flaw. Kara Danvers. Supergirl. Kara Zor El.

 _Her_.

Together they were not perfect. Far from it. And she knew both good and bad times were coming. Happy times, laughter and love. Arguments, misunderstandings and hurt.

All the things, perfect and not so much, that made them _them_.

And it was good. It felt right. And she could not wait to witness them together with him.

Because imperfect things were what made this world so beautiful.

*

Kara told J’onn not long before that she could not lose Mon-El, and it had been true.

Too bad she lost him anyway, huh? For two weeks. Because of a dumb, alien tree climber.

And you know what? Fuck it, she was jealous, green with envy, and she didn’t care.

She just wanted her man back.

Thank Rao, she was about to get him back. Freaking minutes were separating her from putting her hands on Mon-El at last.

He was crouching at the DEO’s balcony, in front of the blue Tangarian girl who was holding Shirll tightly to her chest. Kara, watching from afar, heard the sheng’ghar’s purring, without using her super hearing.

The scene was touching and adorable, especially when he cupped Shirll’s muzzle in his hands, scratched the places behind her ears, talking to her quietly. She closed her eyes and poked his chin with her head when he let go of her

Mon-El ruffled the girl’s hair, said something dumb, because she and her mother laughed. He waved them goodbye when they began vanishing in the teleporting beam, while Kara still stood meters away, keeping her fingers crossed behind her back.

If something, or someone, screwed their departure, she was going to throw a murderous tantrum.

Yet it seemed as though, for once, Rao had had her back, and the Tangarians were transported to their ship.

Just before they disappeared, Shirll had managed to send her a last, very impressive poisonous glare.

Kara rolled her eyes and approached Mon-El, who was still crouching, staring blankly at the spot where the girl and her pet were standing seconds ago.

He didn’t turn to her for a few moments, and some emotions that were playing on his face, made her heart skip a beat.

But before she could have said anything, he turned his head and smiled at her.

“Can we finally go home?”

She smiled back.

*

Her original plan was simple - grabbing his ass and flying straight to her loft and staying there for the whole weekend (J’onn had given them two days off probably fearing that otherwise they would traumatize the entire DEO, and give Pam from HR a heart attack) - but she modified it.

She was longing for the small things.

So, instead, she grabbed his hand, and together they left DEO as Kara and Mike. Strolling through the city, they filled each other with events from the past two weeks. He wrapped his arm around her waist, she slipped her hand into the pocket on his ass.

It took him one pleading-puppy look to make her agree to walk into a bookshop. When he showed her a book he chose, a 600 pages fantasy novel, her face turned white, but he promised with a laugh and a kiss to her temple, that his hands were going to be glued exclusively to her for two whole days.

It took her one sniffing sound and a teary request for homemade food to make him drag her into a grocery store, where they bought enough ingredients to feed an Italian battalion with lasagna, pasta and risotto.

It also took her one second to throw him at her bed right after he’d put the bags on the table in her kitchen.

Holding hands, cuddling, kissing, teasing and getting warm in each other's presence was amazing and she loved that, but she wanted sex as well.

She freaking deserved it, damn it!

*

“Are you sure you are not a shen’ghar?”

Kara stopped purring, raised her head from his naked chest and looked at him through narrow eyes.

“Excuse me, do I look like an alien cat to you? Besides, I’m not the one who has gotten more hairy these days.” She scratched his bearded cheek.

She needed to shave him. On the other hand, he looked kind of... hot now, and she liked it.

“You’ve been purring like you had a little engine inside your throat just a second ago,” he teased her.

“Friendly reminder, I had something else inside my throat not so long ago, and you were not complaining.” She rolled her eyes and put her cheek back on his chest.

“I was absolutely not able to make a sound while my favorite Kryptonian was channeling her inner Daxamite,” he said while running his fingers along her spine.

“You were moaning, mister.” She sighed contentedly into his chest.

“Touché,” he muttered, and she purred again, when his hand stopped on her ass, drawing circles on her skin with his thumb.

Kara pinched his side, when his chest rumbled with a soundless laugh.

They fell into silence, enjoying their closeness.

She was about to drift away, while he was lulling her to sleep with his hand playing with her hair-

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, suddenly.

“For calling me a mouse eater? Already forgiven,” she murmured back.

He didn’t answer right away, and when his hand in her hair stopped, she knew something was up.

“Mon?”

“For the past few weeks, I-” he stopped again and sighed. “I know I should have asked you first, before taking her with me. It’s just...”

She shifted her body and put her head beside his on the pillow.

He was lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, with a troubled expression on his face.

“Just?” she urged him gently, and put her hand on the crook of his neck.

Mon-El shrugged helplessly. “I had a shen’ghar when I was a kid,” he said, finally, still not looking at her, the pulse under her hand beating strongly.

That explained why he’d known so many things about the shen’ghars, she thought, while biting her lip.

They hadn’t talked a lot about Daxam and his past. The topic was avoided and only came up a few times, when his parents arrived, or the many times when they bantered, and he teased her about her boring Kryptonian heritage, while talking about the most infamous and crazy parties he’d attended (she suspected he was making dumb stuff up just to make her laugh).

Still, the doors to his past were usually closed.

She didn’t ask. The pain of losing her home was still there, and she remembered how hard it was to finally talk about it. So, she gave him time, hoping he would talk about it, when he was ready.

But sometimes she wondered if he was not opening up to her because he was not ready, or because he was still ashamed of who he was on Daxam. That he still thought she could bring his heritage up anytime, throw it at his face and break up with him again.

Would she? No. His Daxamite origin was not a problem anymore, even if Rhea’s words when they’d talked at the DEO’s balcony still stung.

However, now he seemed finally ready to open, and she was ready to listen too.

“Was it as annoying as Shirll?” she asked, in a little teasing voice, trying to lighten his mood.

Mon-El chuckled. “No, she was a sweetheart,” he said, with a smile, and turned his head to look at her, their faces inches apart. “Shen’ghars live in small clans. They create strong emotional and intimate bonds with all of the members, but sometimes, no one knows really why, some shen’ghars are rejected by the group. Most of them die, they need physical and mental closeness. But some are saved and taken to the rescue centers, where they can live in new clans made of outcasts,” he brushed a loose curl from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

“It’s rare, but sometimes they create emotional bonds with people from other races. They are registered and can leave their home planet with their new owners.”

“Was that what happened to you?”

He smiled sadly, turned his head, and stared at the ceiling again.

“Mine was illegally bought by my mother for a present for me. So I could man up.” He shrugged nonchalantly, but his muscles were tense.

Kara’s heart throbbed painfully.

“What was her name?” she asked gently, encouraging him to continue.

He swallowed hard. “I don’t know. We have never really bonded, I think she was too traumatized, because when I got her she was just a young kitten. It took me months to make her trust me. Only then she sent some images to my head. Every time I asked for her name, she showed me leaves falling from the trees. So, I named her Ashire. In Daxamite fairy tales, this name belonged to a heroine who was practicing fighting with a sword by cutting the falling leaves. I think she accepted it as hers.” He smiled but it faded quickly.

Kara put her head on his cheek, and turned his head to look into his eyes.

They were grey and darkened with sorrow.

“Mother decided one day that I had become too attached to the animal,” he said, simply, and he didn’t need to add anything else, she understood what he meant with a heavy heart.

“That’s why I wanted to help Shirll. When I saw her, so scared and hurt, I remembered Ashire again. And I thought that maybe, maybe... Rao gave me an opportunity to redeem myself.”

“Ashire… that was not your fault,” she said softly, her thumb caressing his cheek.

“I know, but it never made me feel any better,” he murmured and closed his eyes, leaning to her touch. “Sorry, I upset you,” he said suddenly.

“Me? How?” Kara blinked confused.

“I didn’t talk it over with you. In the end, you both didn’t warm up to each other, and it was probably my fault, because Shirll could not read your emotions, but read mine and every time I looked at or thought about you, I got nervous.”

“Why?” She blinked again.

“I was making you sad, right? We could not cook and do stuff like we always did anymore and Shirll was always hissing at you, so I thought that I should have stayed away and-”

Kara stared at him blankly, while he kept rambling.

So… the mop-head didn’t like her, because she was protective of Mon-El.

And she was protective of Mon-El, because Kara was staring at them darkly all the time and he got upset because of it.

And Kara was staring at them like that, because she was jealous.

And she was jealous, because he was distancing himself from her.

And he was distancing himself from her, because he thought she was upset with him.

And…

That was so dumb.

She came back to her senses and stared at Mon-El who was still talking and she decided to shut him up.

How could you shut a Daxamite up? Put food into his mouth or kiss him. And because there was no food around…

“What was that for?” he asked breathlessly, after they unglued their faces from each other.

“A thought that maybe I wanted to yeet her into the sun and that’s why she didn’t like me, never crossed your mind, I guess?” she asked flatly.

He blinked and looked at her like she was absolutely crazy.

“What?” she questioned, annoyed.

“You? Yeeting some innocent creature into a star?” he asked, and started laughing.

Kara rolled her eyes, and waited patiently for him to calm down.

When he didn’t after a minute, she jabbed his side with her finger.

“Oww!”

“Innocent? She made you her personal tree! For nineteen days! While all I could do was watch you from a distance! Like-” she stopped when she noticed a very smug and annoying look that appeared on his face.

Somehow, she knew she said something she was going to regret greatly.

“What?!”

“Soooooo,” he hummed happily. “You were jealous, not mad at me.”

“I was not jealous…! Stop staring at my crinkle!”

“The fact you know you are crinkling says a lot.” He smiled like a shen’ghar that was about to eat a canary, and she didn’t like it.

“I’m not cr-!”

In a blink of an eye, she was pinned to the mattress, with his mouth on hers, kissing her agonizingly slowly and deeply.

“What are you doing?” Kara asked weakly, when he moved to her jaw.

_Oh, merciful Rao, she was the canary, wasn’t she?_

“Well,” he hummed and nibbled that special place on her neck. “My favourite Kryptonian said that I moaned a lot during her spectacular performance. I guess I need to pay her back.”

“I’m not going to moan.” She hissed when he slowly moved to her breasts.

And she did not. For some time. Hell, she surprised him, and didn’t even moan when he reached her stomach.

But then his mouth kept marking her body with a wet trail, lower and lower-

When he reached the special place between her legs, well, then she moaned a lot. And quite loudly.

Even her neighbors had to admit it.

**THE END**

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Tadah!  
> Hope you enjoyed it.  
> I was planning to write something funny, short and dumb but then I've started thinking about all of the things I absolutely loved about Karamel, how the writers are ignoring their own canon and well, here I am.  
> I have to confess, the shen'ghars were inspired a little by treecats from Honorverse.  
> If anyone has a karamel one shot idea, you can send me them. Just don't expect fast writing....  
> Thank you for reading <3


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